I Might Be Crazy
by supertrackstar
Summary: You can call me crazy, heck, I'd probably agree with you! But I'm not demented or stupid or whatever else you'd have me called. Unless you say beautiful ; That was a joke.
1. Chapter 1

AN: Hey all you people! I'm very glad to have you either (1) reading my story (2) teetering on the decision to read my story or (3) skipping my story completely! Well not so much the last one. Anywho, this first chapter is rather shorter than I had anticipated but hey I do what I can ya know?

Chapter 1: Paranoia, It's a Sign

Josephine Renee Hart. 16-year-old female, born March 7, 1988. 5 foot 5, 113 pounds, Caucasian, with German and English heritage. Mother deceased, lives with father Thomas Hart, in Tallahassee, Florida. Sophomore at Lincoln High School, 3.2 GPA out of 5. Failed the 9th grade for unconventional reasons. Extra curricular activities include Track, Cross Country, and Journalist in the school newspaper. Criminal record of vandalism and domestic disturbance. Served two months in a center for troubled youth. Multiple reports of abuse from the father but all claims have been unproven. All of this information, these facts and data, tell me everything I need to know about her. Yet I have no idea who she is.

She loves milk, drinks a gallon a day, whole milk at that. She doesn't worry about gaining weight. She loves running, everyday, every week, except for when she's not allowed to. Her shins don't cooperate and have a history of splinting. She loves writing, on most days. Her articles are usually well written and euphoric, you can see the excitement in every word. Unless she is assigned a dull topic, one she can't wrap her mind around. She loves her mom. Hates her dad. She's never quite happy. You can't look at her and see it but when she's alone she smiles with un-satisfaction tracing her lips. She loves the sun and rain. May possibly be bi-polar but with her there's really no telling. She has friends but isn't obsessed with them. She embraces alone time but not silence. If all else fails she talks to herself. She _thinks _she's crazy but my thoughts say otherwise. In fact, she's one of the most sane persons I've had the pleasure of stalking.

* * *

_Someone's watching me. _I looked over my shoulder and saw but precarious eyes. No one but the bystanders and it wasn't their look I was worrying about. After all I was in a Mental Health Facility, standing in line impatiently but not attracting attention. Compared to the usual that was something to be boggled by. _I don't think I'm crazy. _You can never be too sure though.

"Miss Hart, I need you to fill out this information before seeing the doctor." _Sigh. _I took the clipboard and pen the nurse offered me. I noticed how every object in the lobby was round, no points at all. The edges of the paper were taped down, I guess to not permit suicide by paper cut. I answered the questions to the best of my ability.

3. Do you have any previous history of mental illnesses or disabilities?

I can't touch my toes, does that count?

7. Have any family members suffered from mental illnesses or disabilities?

Yah my dad's a retard

18. Do you have sex on a regular basis?

I slept with your boyfriend just last night!

22. What was your purpose of visiting "Florida Council For Community Mental Health"?

Well I was hoping you could tell me that Doc.

These things become nature after a while.

Ten minutes later I was going out of mind. _Who is it, who is it. They've got to be here. I can feel their eye's burning through me. _My head snapped left to right every other second and my body jerked as adrenaline pumped through my system. I could feel sweat break through my skin and run down my face. My heart pounded a mile a minute and I swear if someone had been in the room they would've yelled cardiac arrest. _This is why I came here in the first place, paranoia is a sign! But I can't stay here, they know I'm here, I have to leave now. _Before giving a second thought I flew from my chair, rather ungracefully, and was out the door in no time.

My vision was almost blurred when I reached the outside. The sun blinded me momentarily and I fought through the haze of my mind to look for an escape. Somewhere I could hide and not be found. My mind was breaking down and I tried to keep myself together long enough to find shelter. So I ran to the playground, of all the places to go, and sat in a tunnel. I curled my knees up to my chest and didn't move an inch till dark. Not a tear fell from eye, although I felt the need to, but the fact was I didn't cry. One of my many personality traits.

It was strange how in the little tunnel of mine, or the city of Tallahassee to be exact, the searing burn of those eyes no longer affected me. Perhaps there was never one to begin with. _Had I imagined it all? Took false comfort in a playground thinking I was saved from something that never really existed? It's possible. I might be crazy you know. _I still wearily crawled from my nest and into the black night. The moon was my only light, the stars my guide. Not to mention a couple of street lamps. The air was baked with Florida heat and the humidity clung to me like a squirrel on an acorn! _I guess us Floridians do have a little Southern Belle to us._


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Wow, it has been forever but I've got a few tricks up my sleeve for this story :) And they will be published, very, very soon.

Chapter 2: An Offering

My dad was passed out on the couch. I crept toward his nest with quiet footsteps and paused before him. Ever so slightly, I leaned in towards him, like a little girl about to kiss her daddy goodnight, and listened to his breathing. _Dammit, he's still alive…_

I checked the time. _10:07? I can't believe I stayed up this late! _I am known to be an early sleeper. My friends prefer to use the term "party popper" though. I figured since I was already late for my date with my bed, I might as well stay up a little bit longer. Searching through the fridge, I mustered together a ham and cheese sandwich, and a glass of OJ. I would have had water, but when I turned on the faucet, I got nothing in return. _Looks like dad forget to pay the water bill… again. _I had gotten quiet used to taking showers at the local gym, whenever I could get in undetected. I got caught every once in a while but whenever it was this one employee, they still let me in! He was such a nice guy!

I grabbed my food and binoculars and headed to my room. I laid out my spread before the window and took up my view to the sky, scraper that is. It gave me refuge to think, that no one could be watching me if I was watching also. I peered through the lenses as I browsed through others' windows to find something interesting. A majority of the lights were off. The ones that were on typically had shades or blinds over them. I actually did catch a PG13 scene going in one room, but I only looked for like a minute or so, ya know, don't want to be a pervert or anything. I saw a few other faces in their apartments but nothing interesting. No one saw me looking. _I wonder if they feel like they're being watched. Like I do… Maybe my paranoia is karma, for spying on other people. _I didn't start this bad habit until after this feeling emerged though.

Throwing the binoculars to the side, I plopped myself down on my mattress (I don't consider it a bed). The urge to lie on my stomach swelled inside me but I couldn't do so without suffocating in my downtrodden pillow. I reluctantly rolled to my back and stared at the dark ceiling. Sleep was kept at bay by a tumultuous amount of thoughts, whizzing through my brain. _Sometimes I hate thinking. _My thoughts turned to memories, my memories to dreams, and dreams to nightmares.

* * *

Her mother died when she was twelve years old. Shot in the head with a 9mm Glock model 19 pistol. Perpetrator never identified. Body was found in family's blue pickup truck outside of Wal-Mart, by an employee. Police reports state that the father was filing charges against her for adultery two months prior. Case was never closed due to death. Thomas Hart was put in custody as a main suspect. Josephine was placed in foster care for the remainder of the period. No evidence to support that the father had committed homicide. Josephine was placed under his care once again.

She must believe he is guilty, to hate him so passionately. I have observed her now for seven months, never directly approaching or contacting her or any one of her associates.

* * *

Bright light dazzled my eyes as they blearily adjusted to the morning sun. It gave me a headache. I pulled the dirty, white (if you can call them white) sheets off of my body and sat up. _I smell pickles. _Around my room papers were stacked upon clothes, clothes piled upon furniture. It looked similar to what I imagine tornado wreckage would look like, but worse… Maybe three times worse. My room was pretty small so there wasn't much space to put stuff to begin with. Though, I don't have much stuff either. I try to make excuses, but I'm really just lazy. However! I do have a philosophy to explain this pig sty. If I unconditionally hate my "home" then why should I waste my time doing anything to it? Precisely my point.

My sweaty feet stuck to the cheap linoleum floor, making sucking noises. I dragged myself in front of the dresser with a mirror above it. My hair looked bizarre. It was so thick but short that it stuck out at odd angles. My blonde hair didn't match my brown eyebrows. I looked closer. One of my favorite aspects of summer was the effect it had on my skin. My ever bothersome acne cleared up, my skin turned golden tan. I looked into my own eyes, blue with a hint of green. They didn't show much, from what I could tell, but I've never been one to read faces. I then turned to my lips. Peachy colored, I guess, pretty normal. Smiling didn't look right. Searching through a drawer I pulled out a sports bra, tee, and shorts and threw them in a bag along with bath supplies. Before heading out on a run and shower, I had to search the fridge for food. Carefully sliding out of the door, I peaked around the corner into the living room. Daddy dearest was long gone from the couch and his beer with him, which means he was probably in another room. At this time I hear a rather disgusting noise coming from the bathroom. _No water… eww. _The fridge is officially empty, unless I plan to recover from my run with a ketchup packet. Digging around I scrounge up a couple of dollars, enough to buy an energy bar with. I leave as quickly as possible to avoid any potential encounter with Mr. Asshole.

Walking down the flight of stairs in my apartment building I head outside and am hit with a heat wave. It is only 7:30AM but Florida is already hot and humid, trying to boil me and my lungs alive. I drop my bag into my "secret compartment" next to the gym. Secret compartment = edge of gutter. Hitting the sidewalk I take off at an easy pace to get my body warmed up. Today, I decide while running is going to be a moderate day, comfortably hard, hardly comfortable. Most of my run is done on hard surface. I swing through a park once or twice to get a change in surface, but it is not satisfactory. Trails are my favorite place to run, especially if they are in the mountains. But enough wistful thinking, I am brought to the real world when I step in a pile of doggy doo. _Sigh. _After 47 minutes I arrive back at the gym. Grabbing my bag from the pipe, I casually walk in through the doors. Because this facility is rather small and is not a big corporation, the layout is poorly planned. Instead of having a check in at the front, the head dude just walks around. The locker rooms are also conveniently (for me at least) located near the front. So I just strut right through trying not to be noticed, and in this circumstance, am not! I strip off my nasty clothes and soap up. The place is pretty nasty, not gonna lie. I'm glad that I'm not a germaphobe. The floors are definitely a breeding ground for athlete's foot. While in the shower, I stretch out my legs, working on my flexibility, which sucks, by the way. As the water turns cold I jump off, realize I forgot a towel, and shake it dry. This is not a very effective method of drying however, and I walk out dripping wet.

I must admit that the rest of my day went on rather uneventfully. I have friends, I really do, but when school is out I don't have any way of contacting them, or vice versa. After my spy session last night, I had the novel idea that it would be splendid to get shades for my window. Why I had never thought of this before mystifies me. One problem: cashola. I had already spent my money supply on my energy bar and after checking out the prices at the store, I was a long way off from getting one. So giving up on that note I wandered the streets, wondering whether I should beg for money or not. Something caught my eye. People walked around me here and there, not a crowded stream, but not a deserted island either. Directly in my path, in the middle of the sidewalk, lay money. I looked to my left, I looked to my right, and I picked that sucker up. Twenty dollars! This wouldn't just buy me blinds this would pay for college! Well, let's not go that far… _How am I the only one to notice this? _Not being one to resist taking hand outs, I pocketed the cash and walked my way back to the store.


End file.
